


All that Glimmers

by NoxCaligo



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, I lied it follows somewhat of the timeline, M/M, Oral Sex, Thilbo, Tumblr Prompt, bagginshield, doesn't follow timeline, marriage and divorce, thorin having to suck up to bilbo majorly, woo for updating tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxCaligo/pseuds/NoxCaligo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Bilbo and Thorin get married in Lake Town, but after the whole gold sickness ordeal Bilbo wants to divorce. That's dwarven taboo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on tumblr asking for a marriage and divorce fic. This starts while they are still in Erebor pre-BOFA while Thorin is still experiencing gold sickness. The first chapter contains some violence just so you're aware. I don't know what this fic is going at the moment, so stuff might get changed around. If you have any comments on where you want it to go, give 'em to me :)

            _“I can’t do this anymore.”_

Fili and Kili had been walking down one of Erebor’s many halls in search of their small burglar; they had seen him not but a couple minutes before rushing down the stairway looking rather frazzled. Torches lit their away as they descended one of the large staircases that led towards the treasure room where Smaug had once resided. The air smelled musty and like burnt meat—no doubt the result of the dragon living there for so long. The walls were cut from the mountain itself with veins of gold running throughout its surface. Beneath their feet were polished black stone that looked as perfect as the day it had been carved.

            “I think I saw him come down here,” Fili commented.

Kili wasn’t convinced. “Why would he bother coming down here? All that’s down here is gold.”

Fili snorted. “Yeah. _All_ that’s down here is gold. Listen to you,” he teased. “Are you even a dwarf?”

His brother frowned deeply. “You know what I mean. Bilbo doesn’t have affection for gold like the rest of us do. He’s a hobbit after all.”

            “Perhaps he’s looking for uncle? He has _affection_ for him!”

From up ahead there was a large bang of something metallic hitting the hard floor. Both brothers froze mid step.

            “What did you say?”

The voice of their uncle was deadly serious. It was a tone that even growing up they had only heard maybe once or twice. It never boded well for those who heard it.

            “I said I can’t do this anymore Thorin!” came the voice of the hobbit. His tone was nervous, like a rabbit facing a hawk.

Both brothers inched toward the treasure room, trying to keep their boots from making any noise. Ahead of them the corridor made a sharp left hand turn before opening up to the treasure room. Fili and Kili kept along the wall, only peeking out from behind it once they were sure they weren’t detected. From the entryway there was a stair case heading down toward one of the largest rooms in Erebor. Gold in every shape and size was piled around the room; in places the stacks almost reached the ceiling high above. The torches on the pillars and along the walls cast a flaming glow across the gold making it glitter like a golden ocean. Fili and Kili could see their uncle standing in an open space surrounded by coins; his arms were by his side, fists clenched. Before him barely up to Thorin’s chin was Bilbo. He looked as though he was trembling and Thorin’s face was a thundercloud of anger. Kili and Fili peered around the corner with interest but with a growing knot and their stomachs.

            “What are you saying to me?” the dwarven king all but growled.

Bilbo visibly flinched. “I-I want a divorce!”

Thorin’s nephews felt their jaws drop.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed. He took a menacing step forward, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “And what, pray tell, makes you want a divorce my dear hobbit?”

            “You’re _insane_ ,” Bilbo hissed. “All you care about is your gold! It’s been like this ever since we got here. Where is the Thorin that I married in Lake Town? Where is the gentle dwarf that used to hold me close? He’s down in his _damn_ treasure room, night after night!”

            “But Bilbo…”

            “Don’t you _dare_ ‘but Bilbo’ me Thorin Oakenshield! You’re not the same dwarf I fell in love with.” Bilbo’s voice broke and cracked. Tears ran down his face in a steady stream. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you.”

Instead of begging and pleading for Bilbo to change his mind, much to Fili and Kili’s horror, their uncle began to laugh. Bilbo stood rigidly before him, his eyes wide as the dwarf king broke into cruel laughter. Fili and Kili exchanged glances.

            “Do you really think I need _you_ of all people?” Thorin asked. He raised a hand and grabbed Bilbo’s jaw and pulled him close, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks. Thorin’s nails drew blood. Bilbo struggled against his grip only for it to increase painfully. “ _You?_ You’re but a hobbit. A small, worthless hobbit. This _marriage_ of ours was a marriage of _convenience_.”

With a flick of his hand Thorin tossed Bilbo into a nearby pile of gold. Bilbo gave a yelp as he slammed into the coins and as the pile slumped and fell apart.

            “I would love to see you try and make it back to the Shire on your own!” Thorin yelled, advancing on Bilbo yet again. The hobbit saw him coming and scrambled to get up, terror surging through him at the sight of his husband’s thunderous expression. The dwarf seized him by the back of his coat’s collar and hauled him up so he was eye to eye with Thorin. “You can go back to being a miserable grocer! Living alone for ever in your damned hole!”

Bilbo was slammed into a nearby pillar. The air rushed from his lungs at the collision. He didn’t have much time to recover before Thorin was upon him again. He was pulled up by the front of his coat and just has he thought he was going to be thrown again a hard fist slammed into the side of his face. The hobbit was sent to the ground. He was overwhelmed by dizziness and he could taste the blood in his mouth and could feel it running down his nose and face.

            “You’ve made a mistake my dear hobbit,” the king sneered. A foot collided with Bilbo’s rib cage.

            “UNCLE!”

Kili and Fili were sailing down the steps as fast as they could scramble. Upon hearing them Thorin took a step back, setting his glare on their approaching forms. Kili was on his knees pulling Bilbo into his chest while Fili drew his sword and hesitantly pointed it at Thorin.

            “Don’t you _dare_ touch him again,” Fili growled. His stomach was in knots. He had never though that Thorin would hurt Bilbo. They had always been so blissfully happy, almost like teenagers. For him to turn on Bilbo… “You’re not in your right mind!”

Behind Fili, Kili was wiping some of the blood off of Bilbo’s face with the ends of his sleeves. “Come on Bilbo, stay awake please. I’ll take you up to see Balin. He’ll fix you right up.” Although he was trying to stay calm, Kili was trembling. He was furious that his uncle would treat Bilbo, someone Kili saw as a close friend and a member of his family with such violence. But he felt his heart breaking. He knew that Bilbo and Thorin were a couple that could last forever, if only the gold hadn’t corrupted Thorin’s mind. “Fee, give me a hand.”

Fili hesitantly replaced his sword back at his waist and turned around to help Kili to scoop up the hobbit. Blood was flowing from his nose from where Thorin had punched him, his cheek was swelled and already discolored with bruising, and from the way Bilbo whined as they moved him they guessed his ribs weren’t doing so well. The brothers supported their soon to be ex-uncle between the two of them and began making their away up to the upper reaches of Erebor. As they moved towards the steps, Fili glanced back at Thorin. The King of the Lonely Mountain stood root in place. His fist which he has used to strike his husband was still clenched by his side but his eyes were glued on their receding forms. It could have been his imagination, but as they finally made their way back up the steps and around the corner, he could have sworn he heard a muffled sob from the treasure room.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have noticed this suddenly has multiple chapters. That's because I'm a big derp and didn't click the box for "this has multiple chapters" when I uploaded chapter one last night. As with every other fic, reviews are welcome.

The brothers managed to get Bilbo up to his room without any trouble, although drops of blood showed their progress from the treasure room. Thorin had not followed them much to their relief. Bilbo had faded in and out of consciousness; the shock of such abuse at the hands of Thorin and the blood loss had been too much for the poor hobbit. Kili and Fili placed Bilbo on top of his bed.

            “Go get Balin,” Fili ordered. “He’ll know what to do.”

The archer jogged out of the room, albeit hesitantly. Fili sat beside Bilbo. The hobbit lay on his back, sweat beading on his bloody face. Hazel eyes peered out from under heavy lids. Fili brushed some of Bilbo’s hair off of his forehead and soothed his thumb against the cheek that his uncle hadn’t punched.

            “I’m so sorry Bilbo,” Fili said, his eyes tracing over the bruise that had formed on Bilbo’s smooth cheeks. “Kee and I should have stepped in sooner…but we didn’t think our uncle would-  “It’s….ok,” Bilbo managed to say. He was still visibly shaken from the ordeal. “It’s not your fault.”

            “I never thought he would hurt you.”

            “He’s not…the Thorin that we love,” Bilbo stated quietly. His fingers hesitantly reached up and brushed against Fili’s hand. Fili in return held onto his hand.

Fili’s eyes narrowed into a glare, “I will make sure my uncle is punished. Right mind or no, he has harmed you greatly. For a dwarf to lay a violent hand on their spouse…that is-“

            “Taboo.”

Balin and his taller and more intimidating brother Dwalin were in the doorway. The older dwarf carried with him an old bag that clinked as the metallic tools inside raddled against one another. Dwalin walked into the room with a scowl on his face. He was obviously unhappy and he had his arms folded against his chest. Behind Dwalin was Kili looking distraught as ever.

Dwalin approached the bed, his eyes waltzing up and down the hobbit before narrowing sharply. A growl emanated from the back of his throat. “If you weren’t in such a pitiful state I would have never believed he was capable of such an appalling act.” Dwalin had been Thorin’s friend, bodyguard and right hand dwarf for years. When Kili had come rushing into the room where he and his brother were discussing the mines, he had had a hard time believing the youngster’s claim. _Thorin_ had beat the hobbit nearly senseless? That _couldn’t_ have been the case; Thorin loved the hobbit desperately. But the hobbit lying on the bed with such a physically pained expression was all the evidence he needed. “He will be punished. King or not.”

            “Don’t anger him…anymore,” Bilbo winced. Balin had sat on the hobbit’s other side and was now rummaging around in his bag.

Balin produced a cloth and gently tossed it to Dwalin. “Can you bring in a bucket of water? I need that damp to wash the blood off.”

The tattooed dwarf nodded and silently strode off in search of water.

            “What did you do to incur his wrath?” Balin asked as he took bandages and creams from his bag.

            “He asked for a divorce,” Fili stated solemnly.

The declaration made Balin pause. His gaze turned toward to Bilbo. “Divorce is rare, nearly unheard of amongst us dwarves. It’s considered a taboo; we partner for life.”

Kili advanced toward the end of the bed. He looked like a lost puppy; one of his uncles was lying injured in bed while his other blood uncle was down in the treasure room doing who knows what. “He has a good reason at this point,” the archer said in the hobbit’s defense.

            “I’m not saying he doesn’t,” Balin stated. “I’m just saying that it’s rare indeed. I’ll have to look into what exactly the protocol is for divorce.”

By then Dwalin had returned with a metal bucket filled to the brim with water. He sat it on a chest that sat at the bottom of the bed. Bilbo had remained silent during the dwarves’ exchange of words, his face twisted into a pained grimace. Balin began dabbing at Bilbo’s face with the wet rag, gently removing the now crusting blood. By the time he was done cleaning off his face the water in the bucket was completely red.

            “I’m going to look at your torso, okay laddie?” Balin asked.

Bilbo nodded mutely and struggled to lift himself slightly off the bed so his coat could be shrugged off of him. His shirt and vest were unbuttoned and peeled away from him.

            “By the might of Aulë…” Kili choked out.

His entire side where Thorin had so brutally kicked him was red with blood and inflammation. A large cut ran diagonal across his ribs while his skin was already ugly shades of purple and yellow. Bilbo didn’t look down at it. Instead he averted his eyes from the stares he was getting. Even Dwalin shook his head in disgust. Balin grabbed a jar filled with a light green cream and removed the lid.

            “I’m going to smear this in the wound,” he explained calmly. “It’s going to sting.”

Bilbo still didn’t look. His eyes were staring off into the distance. “It will not be the worst thing I’ve felt today.”

True to his warning, the cream burned like a thousand biting ants. Kili and Fili now stood with Dwalin outside Bilbo’s room, too upset by the pain on Bilbo’s face to stay. But Bilbo never uttered a word. His thoughts were a tangle inside his brain and in a way he was thankful for the physical pain—he might float away in his dark thoughts if he didn’t have an anchor to the present.

 _What will happen when he’s realized what I’ve done?_ Bilbo wondered vaguely. His eyes focused on the top drawer of his desk that was in the corner. If Thorin knew what was inside it, he would be dead for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter comes directly from the book. Just in case you all are wondering why it sounds so familiar.

The entirety of The Company stood on the top balcony of Erebor, gazing down from its terrifying heights down at the groups of men and elves down below. There stood Bard the Man from Laketown with his men ready behind him, and by his side with all of the Elves on their mounts was none other than Thranduil. Bard was the one doing the majority of the talking while Thranduil sat back quietly, a curious tilt to his head as if he knew something he should not.

It had been a couple weeks since Bilbo’s encounter with Thorin in the treasure room and his wounds were on the road to being completely gone. Kili and Fili had been a buffer between the two ex-lovers during the short periods that the two were in the same room together for meals---the ones that Thorin even decided to show up to. Bombur kept Bilbo occupied at times by asking the hobbit to help him cook meals with him. Bilbo knew the heavily bearded dwarf was more than capable of cooking on his own but the thought and company was well appreciated. Ori knitted him up a pair of green and blue mittens, Fili taught him a couple tricks with Sting that might keep him alive and Kili was slowly getting the hobbit into being able to aim a bow right. Balin was still combing over texts trying to find the proper documentation on how dwarven customs dealt with divorce but it was a slow process; not even in the oldest dwarf’s memories could he remember a couple separating. Death was the only thing that seemed to separate dwarves from their lovers. But Bilbo was patient.

But now a nervous knot had formed in his stomach as he gazed over the ledge. Thorin was only a couple steps away, shouting over the side at the men and elves, a nasty look to his mouth and his eyes dark and uninviting. A mighty hand rested on the hilt of Orcrist that dangled at his waist and it struck Bilbo hard that those hands, which used to hold and kiss with love and passion, had also struck him and now held a tool of war close. Thorin’s hair was a mass of curls and knots like a crazed person. His eyes were dark and narrow with heavy purple bags handing under them. His normally regal appearing clothes that he had found down in the treasure room were full of wrinkles and dirt.

They had argued the day before over the wall and now at the first rays of day that began to peak around the mountain side the elves and men had returned.

            “Is there then nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?” a voice floated up. Each minute Bilbo was feeling sicker and sicker.

            “Nothing that you or your _friends_ have to offer,” Thorin yelled down. He was beyond talking with elves and the friends of said elves.

            “What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?” Bard asked. In the same moment a man by his side opened a box in which the heart of the mountain was lain. It glowed with a beautiful soft white light.

Thorin was struck dumb with amazement and confusion. No one spoke for the longest time from either camp. It was Thorin who finally, with bubbling murderous rage in his voice broke the silence.

            “That stone was my father’s, and is mine! Why should I purchase my own?” he growled. But then his eyes widened and Bilbo’s stomach did a flip. He knew what thought had just seized Thorin’s thoughts. The king’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the balcony. “But how came you by the heirloom of my house—if there is need to ask such a question of thieves?” he ground out.

            “We are not thieves,” Bard answered. A smile turned up the corner of his mouth and Bilbo’s breath hitched as he knew what was about to come. “Your own we will give back in return for our own.”

            “HOW CAME YOU BY IT?” Thorin shouted. He was leaning over the side and looked as he might fall forward at any moment. His eyes were wide and his teeth were bared; he looked as fierce as the many wargs they had encountered in their journey to Erebor.

The thought of Thorin falling off the side of Erebor made Bilbo move forward, gently grabbing Thorin’s hips and pulling him back. The action startled Thorin and for a brief moment Bilbo could have sworn he saw his old husband behind those steel blue eyes.

            “It was me.”

Thorin’s eyes widened as the words danced through his mind.

            “I gave it to them,” Bilbo squeaked.

And in an instant any trace of the old Thorin vanished. His eyes burned with a hot rage that appeared all too quickly for Bilbo to retreat. Thorin smacked away both his hands and advanced on the hobbit. Before any could react he had Bilbo by the shoulders and was shaking him violently.

            “You! You!” he boomed, “You miserable hobbit! You undersized—burglar!”

The king secured his one hand on the hobbit while the other released him in a flash and was connecting again with the side of his face. If it wasn’t for the grip of his other hands he would have been knocked to the ground.

            “Bilbo!” came a chorus of cries from the dwarves around them.

Thorin sensing the charge of his comrades grabbed at Bilbo’s next and swung around to hold him over the ledge of Erebor. Each of the dwarves which had been ready to pounce on their King halted mid step, eyes wide with terror. Bilbo didn’t need to look down to realize that if those fingers which no encased his neck were to waver, that he would be plunging down to the earth down below.

            “You damn _sneak_ ,” he growled. He focused all of his attention on Bilbo, for the first time in months Bilbo noted dryly. “Why would you give that to _them_?”

Bilbo stared into Thorin’s angry, accusing eyes, overcome by a sudden calmness. “I thought maybe if I gave that _accursed stone_ to them, maybe my _husband_ might come back to me. But I can see that this was an error in my logic. For how could a gold sick dwarf ever be anything but?”

Kili and Fili glanced at each other. Was it their imagination, or did it seem like Bilbo was…

            “I hate you, you miserable hobbit!” Thorin growled. “I wish I had never listened to that damn wizard and taken you along! By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!”

A smile quirked Bilbo’s mouth. He stared with dead seriousness.

            “Then do not hesitate my dear.”

The comment threw even the enraged Thorin for a loop.

            “Throw me to my death amongst the rocks so you will never be _burdened_ again with my love or thoughts of you,” Bilbo continued.

Thorin continued to stare at him angrily, but more than anything confused.

Bilbo’s eyes flashed with anger. “What are you waiting for? _Drop me_.”

But down below the man who had been holding the Arkenstone revealed himself from under his rags. “Stay Thorin Oakenshield! Your wish is granted!” It was none other than Gandalf the Gray. “Here is Gandalf! And none too soon it seems. If you don’t like my Burglar, please don’t damage him. Put him down!”

            “You all seem in league!” Thorin snarled angrily, his attention now divided between the wizard and the hobbit. He gave a disgusted growl and tossed Bilbo down onto the floor beside him. “Never again will I have dealings with wizards or his friends. What have you to say, you descendant of rats?”

Bilbo stared up at him in a way that Thorin could only remotely note as empty. “I wish you had dropped me. It would have saved me from a much crueler fate.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extremely short update. But I figured I may as well post it. 
> 
> On another note, my friend (and LOTR expert ;D ) pointed out that Balin is not the medical expert amongst the company. According to her its Oin. My apologies everyone! At this point I can't really see changing it, so just pretend I know what I'm doing I guess. Haha. 
> 
> As always thanks for the kudos and reviews. I love you all! (WHO ELSE IS EXCITED FOR DOS?!?!?!) Don't forget to follow me on tumblr. It's NoxCaligo~

“That appears to be the last of it,” Ori remarked sadly.

There was a single oaken trunk sitting on Bilbo’s bed that was now packed with his some clothes and provisions while another trunk sat on the floor, nearly spilling over with gold and gems. Bilbo latched the lid and with a sense of finality stepped away.

            “Indeed.”

Fili and Kili were both sprawled out on the bed. “You really mean to leave?” the brunette brother asked. He puffed out his lips and widened his eyes.

Bilbo nodded. “I never intended to stay.”

_But that’s not true._

            “Will you visit?” Fili asked.

The hobbit glanced down at his feet. “It would be a long journey Fili…I don’t know if I would be able to make it by myself.”

Both the brothers perked up. “Kee and I can come get you!” Fili said with a bright smile. “Oh please Bilbo! We’ll miss you so much!”

Bilbo could only manage a small smile. “We’ll see.”

There was a knock on the frame of the door. Bofur walked into the room, trademark hat still on his head. “Gandalf said he’s all ready,” The smile on his face faltered when he saw the trunks. “I can’t believe you’re going my friend.”

            “Neither can we,” Kili whined.

            “Maybe you’ll visit?”

            “That’s what we were just-“

At that moment Dwalin came charging into the room. Sweat beaded on top of his tattooed head and his hand was held tight to the hilt of his battle axe.

            “What’s the matter?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo saw the distress in Dwalin’s eyes and feared the worst. “Dwalin…?”

            “Prepare yourselves lads! There’s war outside our walls!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're going to say. And I know. Mithril shirt=too awesome to break. I know. But for the purposes of this fic....lets pretend that the dwarf that was making it....I dunno, maybe he was sleepy and missed a couple stitches. Just work with me here. Haha...
> 
> I should be update a little more now with the semester winding down. Look for more updates soon hopefully----especially when I get around to seeing DOS!
> 
> As always, follow me on tumblr at NoxCaligo ;)

Thorin was sent to the ground. Mud sloshed as his back connected with the ground from a surprise backhanded blow from an orc. He scrambled to get up; his hand fumbled for the sword that had fallen with him but the orc kicked it away with a dark chuckle. Rain poured from the sky drenching the battlefield and everyone on it. Somewhere in the distance Thorin heard Beorn let out a fierce bellow followed by the death scream of a couple of bats. The orc before Thorin stomped down on Thorin’s hand which was closest to Orcrist.

_Is this my end?_

The orc let out a howl and raised his own sword above his head and positioned it so he could drive it down into the neck of the King of Erebor.

There was a sudden yell close by and then the orc was being toppled over. Without hesitation—albeit a bit confused—Thorin grabbed Orcrist now that the orc was no longer hindering him and struggled to his feet. His savior was still struggling with the orc a couple feet away. It was the dirty red vest that caught Thorin’s eye.

            “Bilbo!”

Bilbo, having seen Thorin overwhelmed by his opponent rushed over, Sting in hand and tackled the orc to the ground. If he had been thinking correctly he would have shoved his sword into the chest of the creature, but his mind was clouded by the thought of getting the vile thing off of Thorin. The orc hadn’t been expecting the assault but as soon as he saw that Bilbo hadn’t stabbed him he thrashed to the side, forcing the hobbit off of him and into the mud. Bilbo rolled out of the way and was on his feet just in time to parry the slash of his enemy’s blade. He ducked to get out of the way of another and while crouched before the orc he launched forward toppling the orc.

            “Bilbo!”

Thorin rushed forward to help but was suddenly jerked back by claws on his shoulders. Orcish yelling came from behind him as an orc seized him, hindering him from aiding the hobbit. While Thorin turned to fight his attack his assailant Bilbo was forced off the orc he had launched himself at. With a kick the small hobbit was dislodged and set backwards allowing the orc to raise his sword against him. The tip of the sword clipped Bilbo’s chin, leaving a red scratch the bled ever so slightly. The rain continued to pour; the normally dark blonde curls that covered Bilbo’s head were matted down and stuck to his forehead making it hard to see at times.

He didn’t know why he had saved Thorin. The dwarf had been more than insufferable since they arrived at Erebor. But the moment he saw him fall to the ground he found his feet moving on their own.  But now that he was face to face with an angry orc he wasn’t so sure what to do. He faced it with Sting pointed in front of him and when the orc came in for a second blow he was able to fully parry. A third, fourth and fifth blow came and each the hobbit brushed off. By then the orc had backed Bilbo towards the hillside in which many large stones sat. The hobbit gave a startled jump when his back tapped against one—he had been so focused on deflecting the orc’s blows and watching his footing in the mud that he had overlooked where they were going.

He heard Thorin yell his name and without meaning he turned to look. The orc used his distraction to his advantage and sliced at Bilbo. The blade caught him across his chest. He stumbled back, grimacing at the sting, but luckily for him he had been able to put his pride away and wear the mithril armor Thorin had bestowed upon him. The tales of its durability must have been true; Bilbo’s shoulder was still intact and there was no blood.

However, he wasn’t so lucky when the next blow hit. With a fierce cry the orc lunged forward, intending on skewering Bilbo. Bilbo was able to twist in order to avoid the sword sticking right through his heart but his shoulder was stabbed instead. The mithril gave away against the fierce thrust. A scream was torn from Bilbo’s throat. As the orc wrenched the sword out of his shoulder Bilbo’s hand immediately flew to the wound. Blood oozed up in between his fingers only to be diluted by the rain. Pain rushed through him and he almost doubled over but he knew to do that would mean death.

Thorin had chosen then to look over from his victory over the second orc. He saw the blade pierce the hobbit’s armor and had heard the scream that shook the heavens. But amazingly the hobbit kept on his feet and even held Sting even tighter, determined to not be bested again.

Bilbo glared up through his damp curls and into the eyes of the beast that was coming in for what he believed an assured kill. And after all, why shouldn’t it be? Bilbo was no warrior. He was a hobbit from the Shire. He was thick around the middle and until this journey had done no real physical works other than cleaning and gardening. To hold a sword even like Sting was foreign to him. But the dwarf who was charging towards them, blood splattered on him as well as mud made him face down the orc with a fierce determination.

The orc stabbed at him again and instead of dodging Bilbo let it happen. The steel bit through the flesh of his side. Blood immediately sprung up causing his white shirt to go red. He heard Thorin scream as he charged closer, Orcrist raised. It was strange to hear the dwarven king scream; Bilbo had always seen him as an immovable force—even when Azog had stabbed him and his warg had bit him he didn’t protest vocally too much.

Now the orc was close, with nothing to defend himself. Sting easily found itself lodged in the horrid flesh of Bilbo’s enemy. Daring, Bilbo inched closer, impaling himself a little more on the orc blade that was still in his flesh, all in order to sink his blade deeper into his opponent until it emerged on the other side. It gave a hideous wail and its claw like hands dropped the hold on his sword. Bilbo left it in his side and drove forward, driving Sting deeper into the orc until the hilt touched the orc’s skin. It lashed out, a claw connecting with Bilbo’s face, but Bilbo held firm.

By the time Thorin got to him the orc was dead. It slumped backward, dislodging itself from Bilbo’s short sword as it slid to the ground.

            “Bilbo-“

His once lover pulled the orcish blade from his body and tossed it aside. The groans of the dead mixed with the pitter patter of rain in order to form a chorus around them. It was only when the Bilbo knew the orc was dead did he allow himself to fall to his knees. Blood trickled through his fingers and pain crashed through him like waves breaking on the shore. Thorin was beside him in the mud within an instant. The dwarf went to place his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders but hesitated because of the wound there. Instead he placed a hand on Bilbo’s uninjured soldier and tilted the hobbit’s chin up with a finger. There was pain filling those hazel eyes he loved so much, but not fear, not like they had been before.

            “Why?” he croaked. He had shown Bilbo no love. He had not acted the part of a husband nor a king; he had acted as wretched as an orc or even Smaug “Why? Why would you aid me, the one who has wronged you so?”

Bilbo smiled up at him. “Your eyes…they’re back to normal-“

If Thorin hadn’t been holding him Bilbo would have ended up face first in the mud.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an update! There's going to be one more chapter after this and then it will be done! As many of you pointed out, Oin is the medical-man of the Company, and here I have made it so. I did not go back and fix it in the previous chapter where I goofed, but here I made it Oin. Just so ya knowwwwwww. Haha. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Edit: DEAR LORD WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME ALL THE MISTAKES IN THIS CHAPTER IM SO SORRY HERE ITS BETTER NOW GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

            “He asks of you.”

It had been hours, almost a full day, since the fighting had died down. The losses on both sides were tremendous. Orcs that hadn’t been slain took to the mountains, leaving their dead and wounded behind; the wounded were put out of their misery by the men and elves surveying the fields. Bodies of the orcs and bats were pulled together into numerous piles and set ablaze with the help of kindling. Fire could be seen even from the doors of Erebor, the immensity of them sending black smoke into the sky. The victors, if they could even be called that, counted their dead, leaving the men to collect men, elves to collect elves and dwarves to collect dwarves. Beorn helped as much as he was able but many were leery of his large bear form.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield had been lucky. Each dwarf, while each sustained some sort of injury, none of them were too serious. A new scar here and there, but alive. All that was to be seen was the safety of their smallest member…

Thorin hadn’t heard Oin the first time so the dwarf had to tap his king on the shoulder and repeat himself. The dwarven king sat outside Bilbo’s room on a shaky wooden chair, his back and head resting on the stone wall behind him. He had been patched up hours ago; his forehead had a bandage wrapped around it and his left arm was in a sling. He had dragged Bilbo into Erebor himself, and nearly single handedly until he felt his grip slipping from the blood that he and Bilbo were covered with. Luckily his nephew Fili had been there to catch the hobbit. But for hours Thorin sat outside Bilbo’s room, waiting for any sort of news. He interrogated those that left on the hobbit’s condition, but none could be too certain.

            “He’s asking of you,” Oin said again. In his hand was his medical bag which appeared to be overflowing with bloody metal tools.

            “How is he?”

Oin adjusted his hearing device and shrugged. “He’s alive. His recovery might be a rough one. I don’t know much about how hobbits deal with nearly fatal wounds. But I suspect it will be a slow recovery.”

Thorin clapped the dwarf on the shoulder before giving him a quick hug. “Thank you so much for caring for him, Oin.”

Oin stared at his king in disbelief for a moment before breaking into a smile. He headed off down the hall to attend to the rest of the injured.

The room had once belonged to Thorin and his lovely husband but as Thorin stepped he immediately felt out of place—an intruder to his own abode. When was the last time he spent the night in this room? Candles were the only source of light at the moment and they cast eerie dancing shadows up the stone walls. Bilbo rested like a small child in a bed far too big for him. A basin with water in it had been set up in place of a nightstand and as Thorin slowly approached he noted the water in it was nearly as dark red as the blood that tainted it. Pillows were piled behind his head as if it were a fragile egg. Bilbo’s eyes were closed, his fists were curled and sitting on top of blood stained sheets. Oin had patched up the nicks on his face, his hands were bandaged, his throat too.

With soft footsteps Thorin approached. He felt his eyes tingle with the onset of tears. He looked so beat up…so silent. It wasn’t like him. Thorin stopped at the edge of their bed, one that he had forsaken for gold. And now his husband lay on it so close to death…

_I could have lost him._

            “You seem lost.”

The voice was just above a whisper, but Thorin caught it and immediately went to his knees so he could be on Bilbo’s level. Hazel eyes peered out from under heavy lids.

            “I…haven’t seen you in here in a while,” Bilbo managed to say. Thorin would be lying if he didn’t hear the bitterness in the hobbit’s words.

Thorin reached for Bilbo’s closest hand but Bilbo moved his out of the way. The king flinched as though he had been struck but did not complain. He deserved this.

            “Why? Why did you save me…?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo didn’t reply. The dwarf could tell that his husband was mulling over his words as he often did; it was a characteristic not found in dwarves who often spoke without thinking. Thorin reached again for Bilbo’s hand, this time successful in gently taking it in his. The hobbit had soft hands, scared from their journey yes, but definitely not the rough hands and stubby fingers of a dwarf who worked in mines and at a smithy. The skin was healthy and soft. A vision of them draped across a bundle of flowers as his casket was closed filled Thorin’s mind. He gave those hands a gentle squeeze.

            “I am sorry.”

Bilbo turned his head ever so slowly to study him.

            “I have mistreated you. You, who are the light of my life, the sun of my sky, the stars of my night, you, who least deserved it. I have struck you. I have wronged you. I took what we had, what we cherished in our marriage and ruined it. For what? Gold? Jewels? Earthly possessions,” Thorin’s eyes left Bilbo’s. A slight red color tinged his cheeks as shame for all the crimes he had committed against Bilbo in the previous months flooded through him all at once. It was as if flood gates had been opened. The king could recall each dismissal of meals together, each cruel word, and of course the day he had punched and kicked Bilbo in front of his nephews.

“I was the one that asked you to wed me, to remain in Erebor with me until the end of our days. And I have made it only lonely and miserable for you.”

Instead of commenting, Bilbo just continued to study the dwarf silently. Thorin continued to speak through a slowly cracking voice.

            “I do not blame you for wanting a divorce,” he continued. “Nor will I stop you. If you wish to leave, I will not beg for you to stay. I have done you such wrong…if you would never wish to see or speak to me again I will oblige you.”

Fili and Kili, who had been coming to Bilbo hid just outside the door. Both sucked in their breath. For their uncle to be willing to just let Bilbo slip through his fingers…

            “But, if you should chose to stay…”

Bilbo’s eyes traveled up Thorin’s body to his steely blue eyes which were boring into him with a passionate intensity. “If you should choose to stay, and allow me to love you still, I promise, Bilbo Baggins, you will never need to wish for anything. You will have me at your beck and call, wrapped around your finger. I will do _anything_ for you, to prove the depths of my sorrow at what I’ve done to you.”

It wasn’t until Bilbo reached up hesitantly to stroke his cheek that Thorin realized that he had been crying. He bowed his head, allowing Bilbo to continue. His shoulders heaved. He had been a blink away from losing Bilbo forever. The mere thought was like ice water being dumped over his head.

            “What a fool I’ve been!” he hissed.

            “Thorin….”

When he looked back up he found that Bilbo had two thin streams of tears cascading down his face.

            “You have hurt me…deeply,” Bilbo agreed. Talking appeared to be a laborious activity for him at the moment. “Truly…hurt me. You put me second to _gold_ Thorin.”

The dwarf hung his head in shame.

            “You said you would not risk the _quest_ for the life of _one burglar._ You kicked….me, punched me, you ignored me for days on…end. I think…this is the first time I’ve seen you in my…. _our_ room in weeks.”

Fili and Kili glanced at each other. They had a feeling that Thorin was about to lose the only gem he really, truly, desired.

            “You dangled me over the side of Erebor,” the hobbit pointed out.

_“I wish you had dropped me. It would have saved me from a much crueler fate.”_

Thorin glanced up into the eyes that were peering through him. “When you wished for me to drop you…why?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Bilbo’s lips. “For weeks…I had been enduring my husband being turned into…a gold sick monster. I thought perhaps, if this Arkenstone…was more important to you than me…maybe it would be better if…”

The words “if I wasn’t alive” hung in the air.

Thorin let out a distressed cry and covered his face with a hand, sobbing into it with true heartbreak, the likes of which Fili and Kili hadn’t heard since after the battle that had claimed their great-grandfather’s life.

            “I am sorry, Bilbo,” Thorin sobbed. “I am so sorry! You mean more to me than any jewel, gem or coin in this whole damn mountain! If it would make you believe me I would have everything melted and-“

Thin fingers touched his lips ever so gently, silencing his words.

            “I believe you.”

Thorin’s eyes widened. Did he hear him right?

            “You…?”

            “You’ve changed Thorin. You first appeared before me an arrogant dwarf, determined to right the wrongs brought forth by Smaug against your people. Through the journey you morphed. You kept your arrogance and your mission, but you became friendlier…more willing to trust others…to trust the word of a simple ‘burglar’. But Thorin…to be completely honest…”

Thorin sucked in a breath.

            “I’ve love you since the beginning,” Bilbo whispered to him. “I’ve always been…attracted to you, even when you called me a grocer. When you told me I had no place in the Company following the stone giants’ battle…I will admit I was devastated, but after getting out the goblin caves…I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing this journey to the end with you. I couldn’t bear the thought…of leaving you. I was to come along to be a burglar, and I was going to be a burglar until the end thank you very much!”

            “You are the finest burglar I could have asked for,” Thorin whispered.

            “When you asked me to come with you on this journey…I was hesitant. But when you asked me to marry you in Lake Town…I said yes without a second thought,” Bilbo said softly. “Does that not tell you how much I love you? How far I was willing to go for you? I was willing to risk my life for your quest, and give whatever I had left at the end to you---to be by your side.”

Thorin gave Bilbo’s hand a slight squeeze and gazed into those eyes. They looked dark and tired, but there was a spark in them that still desired rebellious adventures.

            “Would you then do me the honor, Bilbo Baggins, of remaining by my side?” Thorin asked. His chest was tight. His future rode on the reply of the small hobbit before him.

To his surprise the squeeze was returned, albeit weakly, and his hobbit wore a small smile, a miniature of the large grin he typically sported. “I will. Until the end of our days, my dear husband.”

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about it being one chapter until the end. I decided to divide it up.

The sun beat down bright on the top walkway of Erebor. From it Thorin could see all of Dale, completely rebuilt from its previous desolation. Banners baring the sigils of men and dwarves beat proudly in the light wind over top of the lookout towers, youngsters ran through the throngs of people walking the markets, the aromas of food and smithies filled the air. There were no scars remaining from the destruction Smaug had wrought, but the elderly of the people and dwarves hadn’t forgotten the day the drake had changed their lives forever. Thorin watched from the heights of Erebor, a fond smile coming to his lips. He and his Company had been able to rid the dragon from their halls, thus allowing for life to return to the Misty Mountains. It had been a hard travel from the Blue Mountains, to the Shire and then onto Dale and Erebor, and at times it probably would have been easier just to turn back. As Balin had said, the dwarves had a comfortable life in the Blue Mountains, they didn’t need Erebor or Dale, not even their sacred halls of Moria. They hadn’t _needed_ them, but by Aulë, Thorin had wanted them back with a burning passion.

            “Ah! Thorin, there you are,” came a voice from behind him.

Coming through the doorway of the overhang was his husband and consort Bilbo. He wore a dark green tunic that had trimmings of yellow gold at the bottom, the ends of the sleeves, and down the middle to accent his golden buttons. His pants-which ended at the knees, for he was a hobbit, thank you very much! - were the same color as his tunic with a golden swirl design up the legs. His large hobbit feet were bare to the world. Around his forehead he wore a strand of mitral adorn with beads, some were gold others chips off of the Arkenstone itself. On the left side of his head Thorin had taken the time one night during a shared bath to braid part of Bilbo’s curly mop of hair, so tucked behind his hair with a bead bearing the sign of the Line of Durin was a simple dwarfish braid. The color had finally come back to Bilbo’s skin. There were scars where the orc had attacked his face, and he had a rather gruesome looking scar on his side where he had impaled himself, but he was able to walk without much worry. The only sign of distress from the Battle of Five Armies was the cane that he often took along around Erebor. “Better to be prepared” was his motto.

Thorin too was much improved. His arm sometimes ached in the poorer weather, but he had fully recovered elsewise. He wore his black hair with pride, even if a few extra strands of silver had appeared as of late. The King Under the Mountain took to wearing his old blue tunic with the silver scales, along with a lovely royal blue cape fashioned from velvet and lined with the thick fur of wargs he had felled. He wore the crown his grandfather Thrór had worn; it sparkled with gold and onyx found in the mines of Erebor long before even Thrór had been born. It suited a king, or so Bilbo said.

            “Have you been looking for me long âzyungâl?”* 

            “Not too long. I figured you would be out here admiring the view…Melhekhel,” Bilbo added coyly. **

Bilbo joined Thorin by the edge to gaze out at Dale. The younger male had never seen the previous city before Smaug ruined it, but he could still imagine the grander in which Balin often described. The blue sky with its wispy white clouds reminded Bilbo of the Shire, a place he hadn’t been in what seemed an eternity. He knew he would have to venture back eventually to find out what state Bag End was in and to make sure all his estate was tried up so those awful relatives of his—the Sackville-Bagginses---didn’t make off with anything of value. But to travel to the Shire meant leaving Thorin behind. At the moment Bilbo found he was content living in the carved out halls of Erebor with his dwarf husband beside him.  

            “Did you have plans for the rest of the day?” Bilbo asked. He reached beside him and gently took Thorin’s hand in his. His fingers fan over the rings that the king had adorning his fingers.

            “Hmm, it depends.”

            “On what?”

            “Did you have any plans?”

Bilbo gave a chuckle. “I had a game I thought about playing.”

            “A game? With whom?” Thorin asked. He had an idea he knew whom.

            “With who indeed.”

Bilbo tugged away his hand gently and reached within one of the pockets on the front of his tunic. From it he pulled the golden Ring that he always had on his person. Thorin cocked a brow in interest especially upon seeing the grin that lit up his lover’s face. He slipped the ring on in a fluid motion and disappeared into thin air. Thorin was used to his tricks by now. The ring allowed for his love to become invisible and to slip away unnoticed; in retrospect he figured this was how Bilbo had slipped made it through the Goblin tunnels, through Mirkwood and into Smaug’s den. Thorin could hear a very slight noise of the slap of feet fleeing back into Erebor. All he could do was stand there and smile. He knew where Bilbo was headed, and like a hound on a hunt he gave chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lover  
> **king of all kings


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn ahead~

The door to their room was left ever slightly ajar. When Thorin stepped through it he saw Bilbo’s green tunic lying halfway between the doorway and the bed. The king shut the door behind him and advanced slowly toward the bed.

            “You gave me quite a chase,” he commented. “Going through the gardens…the gold mines…even the kitchen? Have you no sympathy for a king?”

            “Sympathy?” came a chuckle from the darkness. Thorin heard the squeak of their bed. “What would I have to pity you over? He who has everything he could ever want…The lord of a mountain overflowing with riches.”

Thorin picked up the tunic on his way towards the nightstand. He pressed it to his nose gently, taking in Bilbo’s scent. He was a strange mix of the mountain air, the dirt and mineral scent of the mines he often waltzed through, and something utterly hobbit-like. It was as if the scent of a faraway meadow had ingrained itself in Bilbo. He was a breath of morning air, the warmth of the sun floating up from a field of flowers.

Discarding the tunic he picked up a packet of matches—a wonderful invention that Bilbo had brought with him from the Shire---and lit two of the candles sitting on the nightstand.

            “I would like to be able to see you,” Thorin said. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming, looking for his husband. “If I can’t see you, how will I be able to touch you?”

The Ring came off Bilbo’s finger with ease.

            “Much better.”

Thorin’s fingers found their way to Bilbo’s hair and gently removed the strand of beads. The beads and the Ring were placed on the nightstand along with Thorin’s crown which Bilbo took the liberty of removing. Dwarfish fingers trailed down Bilbo’s exposed chest and belly, reveling in the softness, caressing the ugly scars on his side—a reminder of Thorin’s mistakes and his promise of devotion.  Bilbo laid on his back, his hazel eyes and dark blonde hair looking like they were ablaze from the candle light. Thorin craned over him, his fingers gently caressing him as if pushing too hard would only make him break. But this was Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, the Barrel Rider, Child of the kindly West, the Clue-finder, the Guest of Eagles, the Luckwearer, the Ring Winner, the Spider Stinger, the Stinging Fly, the Thief, He that walks unseen, The Web Cutter; if there was anyone in all of Erebor who could claim to be “not as fragile as glass thank you very much!” it was Bilbo.

            “I’m afraid that you will have to reschedule anything you had planned today,” Thorin stated as he undid the clasps that held on his cape. The fur lined cape slid off his shoulders with ease and pooled on the floor. “I’m about to make you a bit busy.”

            “That is fine by me, my king,” Bilbo all but purred. He reached up and began popping the buttons on Thorin’s tunic.

Thorin watched him work his nimble fingers with an increasing feeling of hunger. The dwarf shifted so he was completely looming before Bilbo as his shirt was pushed open and aside, and as soon as it was removed Thorin pressed down and into Bilbo, smothering him with a kiss. Oh, those lips were too soft, too inviting; the thought of anyone else taking them between their own made Thorin press into Bilbo harder, earning him a moan. Those lovely lips opened in invitation and Thorin was glad to take it, plunging his tongue in with zest. Bilbo’s hands gripped at Thorin’s shoulders, his knees coming up on either side of the dwarf’s hips. The room was silent except for the sloppy wet sounds of their battle of tongues; it had been quite a while since Thorin had kissed Bilbo in such a way, since before the gold sickness had struck if Bilbo remembered correctly. They had kissed since the Battle of Five Armies, and they had coupled a few times since his recovery, but they were always hesitant, as if something was _off_. But now…

Bilbo moaned deeply and jerked up onto Thorin.

            “Ah-“

Thorin broke away for a moment to press kisses to the sides of Bilbo’s smooth face, down his neck to his shoulders where he allowed his teeth to graze. He nipped at the pale flesh before placing his mouth fully down, alternating between biting and licking. Bilbo gave a hearty moan and arched up, willing himself to get closer to his husband. His breath came in quick puffs.

            “Thorin…!” the burglar gasped at a particularly sharp bite.

After much sucking and nipping by Thorin in the same spot, there was a large red and bruise adorning his shoulder in a spot Bilbo could guess wouldn’t be covered by his tunics so easily. Thorin kissed it gently before moving his kisses down in a trail that led to Bilbo’s nipple. He flicked at the bud with the tip of his tongue, experimentally, before pressing his mouth to it. The moan he received was gorgeous. Thorin’s shift his weight so he could support himself with one hand while the other busied itself with Bilbo’s other nipple.

            “Thorin, ah-please!”

It wasn’t often that the hobbit lost his wording or couldn’t form sentences; it was something that the hobbit prided himself on—always having the right words that is. Seeing Bilbo a moaning wreck because of _him_ made Thorin beside himself with lust. But he had to be careful. Feelings of possession that often bubbled up in his heart were dangerous. The thought of locking Bilbo away, a precious gem for only him to view, while more than a tantalizing idea was too much like the gold sick self that had harmed Bilbo so dearly.

Bilbo snaked a hand between them and palmed his husband’s growing erection; Thorin hissed with surprised and bucked into the hand.

            “Bilbo…”

            “I want you,” Bilbo moaned. His pupil were blown wide with lust and stared out from under angelic lashes. “Kahomhîlizu…”*

Between the dwarves of the Company Bilbo had been picking up many Khuzdûl words. There were no books to teach it, and aside from one elf that had learned the language, those who were not dwarven were not permitted to learn the sacred language. Balin had been leery at best about allowing the hobbit to learn but in time agreed it would be best the king’s husband know it. Granted some of the words he had picked up weren’t exactly for diplomatic reasons; the look of pure wanting on Thorin’s face when Bilbo spoke in Khuzdûl to him was beyond sexy.

            “Yamal.”**

Thorin pulled back and began unlacing Bilbo’s trousers, slowly revealing his already hard dick. With his pants shoved down they were discarded without care allowing for Thorin to sweep his eyes over the form of his lover, sprawled out on his back, erection stiff against his belly, mouth parted open in invitation.

            “You look good enough to eat.”

Bilbo was about to remark but it morphed into a heated cry as Thorin ducked his head down and swiped his tongue up Bilbo’s shaft.  The hobbit’s toes curled as Thorin continued the motion. A moan filled the room. The wet heat from Thorin’s tongue was almost too much; Bilbo could feel a heat building in his loins, curling like a viper ready to strike.

            “Please-“

The beg was cut off as Thorin took his tip in his mouth.

            “AH-“

His tongue was hot and moist. If the pair hadn’t shared a passionate kiss since before the gold sickness overtook Thorin, then it was even longer since he had dared but his mouth on such a private piece of his husband. He experimentally pressed his tongue in different places along Bilbo’s dick, swiping it there, swirling over there, each movement earning more heated replies from his love. How could he have given this up for lonely nights in the treasure room? The cold of coins was nowhere near so pleasant as the warmth radiating from the body under him.

            “Mmmm-“

Bilbo curled his fingers into the sheets and fur that lined their bed. His hips jerked up involuntarily at one of Thorin’s cheek-hallowing sucks and he gave out a whine. Thorin pressed his fingers down onto the hobbit’s hips to still him.

            “Ah, Thorin I’m sorry-!”

Thorin didn’t reply. His tongue drew up and down, leaving trails of saliva in its wake. Bilbo was breaking out in sweat by then and a flush of pink painted him from head to toe, darkening around his ears, cheeks and chest. Thorin wasn’t in any better condition; he was slightly less sweaty but no less aroused. While distracting his husband by taking more into his mouth he dared to press a finger slowly into him.

            “AH-“

Bilbo jerked at the intrusion despite Thorin’s best efforts.

            “I’m sorry.”

Bilbo gritted his teeth and shook his head. “It’s-it’s fine…Please, go on.”

Thorin released Bilbo’s cock from his mouth with an obscenely wet pop. While his finger slowly worked at Bilbo’s entrance he busied his mouth my kissing up to the hobbit’s navel. The king loved Bilbo’s belly; it was rounded from his love of eating and extremely soft. He nuzzled into and was surprised when laughter broke out under him.

            “Oh-oh-oh s-stop that!” Bilbo laughed. When Thorin looked up at his questioningly, his fingers frozen in place, Bilbo chuckled and patted the top of Thorin’s head. “Your beard…it tickles!”

A grin spread across the king’s face. “Oh? You mean when I do this-?”

He rapidly buried his nose into Bilbo’s stomach, moving his beard from side to side again the soft flesh. Bilbo yelped in surprise and burst into harder laugher. Thorin removed his finger from Bilbo and reached up with both hands and clutched Bilbo’s biceps so he couldn’t fight back. He brought his chest down, pinning Bilbo’s hips as he continued his assault. Bilbo twisted from side to side, his laughter filling the room as he tried to escape. His laughter was light as chimes in a breeze and it made Thorin remember sweet times from his youth basking in the sunshine of the spring.

The assault stopped.

            “I love you.”

The comment caught Bilbo a bit by surprise. Thorin was over him, his face only inches away. His eyes were serious but his mouth was upturned into a goofy smile that warmed Bilbo’s heart.

            “You are my everything, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo chuckled and closed his eyes.

_Welcome back Thorin._

            “I love you too Thorin,” he whispered, adding a quick peck of the lips.

Their lips connected again, softly at first before they renewed the heat between them. Tongues darted out to meet each other and hips began grinding together looking for that blessed friction. Thorin began working at his entrance once more, adding one more finger and another when he saw fit. At some point the lubricating oil had been taken from their nightstand and was applied to those thick fingers that were continuously working at him. Bilbo panted beneath him. His eyes had closed at some point. A low hum pulsed through his body with the movement of those fingers until he found it wasn’t enough.

            “Thorin-“

The fingers were suddenly gone from him leaving him feeling a little empty. But soon enough something considerably large was butting up against him. The entry was brutally slow. The hands which once held his wrists were gone, being used to support the sturdy body of the dwarf king. Thorin’s eyes were locked onto his, drinking in the expression Bilbo made as he slowly pushed into him; the mix of pain and wanting that happened with every coupling made Thorin growl low in his throat and push in a little further. Bilbo’s knees clung to the sides of Thorin’s hips and his hands gripped at his muscular back.

Thorin paused and waited for the tension to fade from Bilbo’s face. After a minute or two Bilbo’s eyes slowly creaked back open.

He frowned. “I’m not made of glass.”

The king gritted his teeth and sunk in impossibly further. Bilbo’s toes curled as he let out a drawn out moan. His back arched and his head sunk further into the pillows as Thorin back to slowly rock in and out of him. Bilbo’s already ragged breath turned even more labored.

            “Ah~”

Word in Khuzdûl tumbled out of Thorin’s mouth as moved with a greater speed. Bilbo, while still lost in his ecstasy couldn’t understand many of the words but he was able to catch a couple appeals to Aulë and mentions of love, tightness and something about springtime that Bilbo didn’t quite catch. But he had no intentions of asking; his throat felt like it was about to bubble over with moans and a strange tingling was beginning to flutter through him. Thorin’s eyes were squeezed shut. Somewhere along the way the pair had intertwined their hands. Bilbo’s legs remained wrapped around Thorin’s jerking hips, which Bilbo noticed were beginning to lose their rhythm. The King Under the Mountain was slicked with sweat and his brows were furrowed in concentration.

Hesitantly Bilbo raised his head to press his lips to Thorin’s shoulder.

            “What-“

The question was interrupted as Bilbo nipped at the flesh there.

            “Bil-“

The hobbit mocked what Thorin had done to him earlier, alternating between biting and sucking at the flesh there. He noted the rhythm of the hips slapping against his faltered greatly. His once gritted teeth opened into a gaping mouth as he gasped for breath.

            “Bilbo, I-“

Bilbo hummed against his skin.

            “Bilbo-“

Bilbo’s mouth released his shoulder with a gasp. His fingers slipped away from Thorin’s to flick at his lover’s hard nipples and his eyes looked up into the ones above him.

            “T-Thor-in, I---I---“

Before Bilbo could manage out the words his body released like the snap of a rubber band. He gave out a cry that bounced off the walls of room and somewhere within that cry was his own name being yelled out.

What followed were several minutes of relative silence where both lovers lay in place trying to catch their breaths. It was hard to ignore the stickiness between their bodies but neither was willing to move. Bilbo’s lower half throbbed from Thorin’s roughness, and Thorin’s back ached from being out of practice. When Thorin removed himself from Bilbo all the smaller male could do was squeak at the obscene noise and the emptiness.

            “You…you were…”

Thorin huffed. “Out of practice?” His voice was lazy and deep, and somehow a little unsure of himself.

            “Perfect,” Bilbo corrected gently. He began tracing the thick black lines of Thorin’s tattoos that he had on his arms. Some were old from before Bilbo had met him, others were new. All were lines of patterns mixed with Khuzdûl.

The tracing made Thorin rather relaxed as he came down off his sex induced high and he thought of how he would be so happy to fall asleep just like this. He shifted so he was beside the hobbit and he was able to draw him into his arms.

            “What about the mess?” Bilbo inquired.

            “It matters not,” Thorin yawned.

Bilbo quirked a brow. “Wouldn’t you rather not-“

Thorin’s lips found their way to Bilbo’s pointed hobbit ears. “You’re just going to get messy again as soon as I’m able.”

Another flush found its way from Bilbo’s ears down to his chest. All he could do was manage to nod and add, “That wouldn’t be entirely opposable.”

            “Sleep for now my dear.”

Bilbo smiled and once again was grateful that his husband had returned to him. When he closed his eyes he quickly fell  into a dream full of mountain sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter! I hope you all enjoyed! This was meant to be just a short dabble that turned into a 26 page word document...Oh well. Thank you all for your support and for reading. Look for other Bagginshield/Thilbo fics from me in the future! And as always, check out my tumblr NoxCaligo. Love you all and hope you all have a happy new year!  
> *please  
> **with pleasure


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